by GR Griffin
Did this mean that the snowstorm outside did not happen? Was it fake, a trick of the mind, merely a figment of their imagination? Because the brutal cold, the stabbing pain, the overwhelming agony as their body began to shut down – none of it felt false.
You’re not actually thirsty, as the last line suggested. The air was cool, thick with humidity, yet Fleck’s body cried for water. That small bottle of orange juice for breakfast was all the liquid they had drank today, since then having secreted their own body weight in sweat from all their exercise. No wonder they were so thirsty. They were constantly licking their lips, trying to coax moisture into them from their paper-dry tongue. They opened wide and drew in the moist air, hoping that enough of it would rub off in their mouth. Both attempts were futile.
The ruffling of their winter clothes drew them to their sleeves, where the wetness from the blizzard still clung, glistening the puffy outside and adding further proof that it was not an illusion. Fleck resorted to licking the leftover traces of snow off their arms, which turned the tide on their dehydration the same way a beaver dam would halt a tsunami.
Fleck stopped, threw their backpack off, and undid the top flap. They rummaged around inside in the hopes of finding liquid, discovering nothing except their dry rations and the empty flask. Taking the canister out, a thought crossed their mind that made them forget how hollow it felt. If packaged food grew on trees, then perhaps water poured from flasks? A longshot, but they were desperate enough to try anything at this stage. Fleck unscrewed the top and peeped through the spout, seeing only a circle of black. They tilted it above their mouth, hoping for sweet hydration, but got nothing.
From out the corner of their eye, Vail nonchalantly walked in on the embarrassing spectacle of a child trying to coax water from an empty flask, making them jump and almost drop the bottle. “Uh oh,” he smarmed, “looks like someone’s in dire need of a drink.”
There was no openings to the left, no evidence of hidden doorways, not even a mere peep to give away his entrance; he had simply appeared from nowhere. Vail crossed Fleck’s path, treading silent steps from one end to the other and showing no sign of slowing down as he approached the wall on the right.
“Lucky for you, I know just the place to wet your whistle.” Vail looked as if he were about to bump into the opposite side of the cave when he stepped onto it. Fleck was stunned as the dressed-sharp komodo dragon climbed upwards on his own two feet, sideways, gravity having no effect on him whatsoever.
Nothing about Ice Island was as it seemed, and Vail was the heart of it.
Fleck kept Vail in their sights as he casually followed the curve to the sparkling ceiling. They were determined to stop him from disappearing on them again.
Vail was upside-down, stuck like glue to the rocks above, yet showed no signs of being that way. His hair remained slicked to his head. His loose clothing gravitated toward the ceiling. He pointed his thumb over his shoulder at the length of cave behind him and said, “It’s exactly three miles down from here. Now, I’m sure you can get there all by yourself, but you look a little worse for the wear and – let’s be honest – it doesn’t sound too thrilling, right?”
Fleck diverted a tiny amount of focus away to bring their feet closer together, which were sliding further apart on the slippery floor.
Forgetting why they were staring at Vail, Fleck shot a look down at the ground and found it to the covered in ice. Stretching as far forward and as far back as they could see, the reflection of both the cavern ceiling and themself replaced the gritty, stone ground that they had been treading for twenty minutes. The realisation to this sudden turn only made it slippier. Fleck stretched their arms out, fighting to stay upright, accidentally dropping their flask and kicking their rucksack out a couple of feet away from them.
Vail chuckled. “How about we spice things up a bit?”
All of a sudden, the nauseating feeling from their train ride through the Shattered Zone returned as the path ahead rotated downwards on them. They remained standing for a few metres, losing what little traction they had, as the gradient was gradual, struggling as it reached a moderate decline, and then tumbling onto their back as it went steep.
Their head whipped back, catching sight of Vail as he remained stuck in place, watching them slid away into the abyss below. “Sit back and enjoy the ride! You’ll be fine,” he said loud enough to hear before disappearing out of sight. “See you again soon!”
Helplessly, Fleck picked up speed on the ice, the chill from both it and the rushing air making the supposedly fun slide a lot less so. Both their full rucksack and empty flask followed them downwards, spinning and occasionally bumping into the walls and each other. Fleck clawed at the ice with gloved fingers, but it was extremely smooth, more than enough to make it unnatural.
They glimpsed their bag as it span to their right and scraped the wall, all the contents packed in tight enough to stop them from spilling. Strapped to the side, opposite the self-folding tent, the dual ice picks clinked away, drawing attention to themselves. The metallic hooks sparked in the passing spectrums of light. Rolling onto their belly, Fleck reached out, hoping to snatch anything they could. The bag hit the wall, span, lost speed and slid further back up the slide, out of their grasp. Their attempts at flopping closer were as fruitless as swimming through a vacuum.
The flat floor curved upwards around the walls, then to the ceiling, smoothing over all the bumps, creating a slippery black hole in which the human could not escape from. The tunnel spiralled indiscriminately and so did they. Their stomach contents rose to the top, verging on escaping from their mouth.
Darkness swallowed them.
And then Fleck wasn’t moving anymore. It was more sudden then how it started, and both instantaneous and painless. They did not feel the slide flatten out or themself lose momentum, they just… weren’t moving anymore, lying on their bag, gazing up at the stars.
Sitting up, they found themself no longer in a never-ending corridor, but in a vast, open area. The grey walls glowed blue. The twinkling rocks among the stalactites of ice overhead reminded them too much of Waterfall. The utter bizarreness of this world made the one under Mount Ebott look dull. At their feet lay both their plump survival backpack and the empty flask, lined up neatly beside each other.
Looking back, the mouth of the tunnel was there with its rock walls and floor, how it looked before it became a wild ride.
After scratched their head, the puzzlement followed them as they gathered their backpack and flask. What just happened? They were falling, and now they weren’t. The urge to puke their guts out dawdled on the lining of their stomach, which mellowed out the moment they stopped.
A collection of voices directed them across the room, toward three monsters, each one performing different actions.
The first monster, a koala bear wearing a ragged coat similar to Fleck’s, was jumping around while playing air guitar. He mimicked the sounds of guitar riffs and whammies as he simulated them with crazy hand gestures.
The second, a quadrupedal black and white cat, was sat on the ground, clapping her front paws eagerly. The lights in her yellow eyes bright with anticipation.
The third, a humanoid brown cow with long, curly red hair, thick glasses, blue jeans and an orange sweater, was punching and kicking, striking nothing but the crisp air. One would suspect that she was attempting to fight off imaginary goons or bat away mosquitos.
Fleck stood up. They said hello to the trio, but none of them paid any attention. Fleck said it again, this time louder – all of them went about their business unimpeded. The sitting cat monster inhaled a mouthful and blew it out before herself as if extinguishing the candles on an invisible birthday cake.
Before they realised it, there was someone beside them who had his hand on their shoulder. Fleck did not need to look or to turn their head and gasp in shock. Already, they were getting used to it.
“I see you’ve already met my friends… or some of them, anyway,” said Vail in a c
asual tone. “Now, I know what you’re thinking: ‘what are those idiots doing?’ Well, you can’t see it yet, but they’re having the time of their lives.” He pulled away from the child and took steps across the enclosure toward the other monsters in the room. “They’re living out their biggest fantasies, their wildest dreams, and it’s all thanks to Yours Truly.”
Fleck switched between the four monsters in the room, one after the other. It made them temporarily forget about the craving in their throat. These guys must be among the many that have gone missing. The child’s senses sharpened, going into high alert as a likelihood took shape.
Were they going to end up this way too?
Vail approached mister rock-and-roll koala. He pointed at the guy with both hands, winked and called out, “Hey, Johnny, you’re on fire tonight, baby! Give us a rockin’ solo for the ages!”
Spurred by Vail’s encouragement, Johnny’s arm movements became more wild and exaggerated; the fingers in his left forming talons, the right hand slicing those invisible strings with an invisible pick. He jumped to the left before diving to his knees, all while rocking his fictional instrument. Johnny may not have been in an actual concert, but the sweat and toil from his energy were as if he was.
Vail waltzed past Johnny, leaving him to entertain his invisible audience, and approached monster number two – the cat that was sat on the ground. He stopped short, the hypnotised monster not noticing him in the slightest; her empty eyes gazing forward, blissfully locked onto something in front of herself – something Fleck could not see.
Vail turned to the left, reached down, placed his hands three feet apart, and then raised them as if he were lifting an invisible box. He neared the cat, who finally noticed him.
“Here you go, Mika. Happy birthday!” Vail set the imaginary box down before her. She reacted with a squeal of joy and more clapping from her front paws. “Don’t open it too fast.”
Just like with Johnny, the happiness in Mika’s features were bright enough to glow in the dark. She leaned forward and chomped her teeth at the air before reeling back.
As Vail neared the punching and kicking woman, the human feared that at any moment she would swing a wayward attack in his direction.
“Watch your six, Lena!” he shouted. At that moment, the cow monster named Lena ducked before throwing her body back and upwards, swinging her arms over her head. She slammed her imaginary opponent into the ground. Vail, without taking his eyes off Lena, kicked to his left and reached around and made claws with his three fingers. “Double team.” He span his clenched hand around to Lena, who performed an amazing spinning back kick into the empty area one metre before it, as if kicking someone. Vail looked down at the ground. “Yep… he’s not getting up from that anytime soon.”
Vail retraced his steps back to the human as Lena flailed with increased vigor. “As you can obviously see, these people are happy, Fleck. Happier than they ever could be in stupid reality. And soon, my dear...” The next words struck deep into the child’s heart. “I will do the same to you. I can already tell that deep down you are unhappy, that you carry a heavy burden thanks to the unfairness of everyday life. I will delve into your mind and tear that burden away, replacing it with the cure to all your aches and pains. You’ll be so elated that you’ll never want to return to your real life ever again.”
The human’s imagination ran rampant. They were going to become like these monsters, stuck in some twisted daydream, smiling and dancing within these empty caves for the rest of their life. It chilled them down to the bone.
Breaking from his monologue, Vail stroked the hairs on his chin in thought. “But first, I feel like I’m forgetting something…” For a moment, he pondered, and then remembered with a snap of the fingers. “Oh, right! Your drink. It’s right over there.” He gestured his three fingered hand to Fleck’s right.
They turned. Drinking fountains, lined up against the wall in a row of five. From left to right, each one was different in height to accommodate the great shift in statures the monsters exhibited. The leftmost fountain was practically on the ground, accessible to mice, while the fountain at the opposite end was closer to the ceiling that it was to the ground.
“All water sources are safe to drink here – you can stick your head in a dirty puddle and be fine – but that doesn’t mean we’re animals. Some of us are animals to some degree, but that’s not the point.” Vail straighten out his vest and fixed his tie, highlighting his large sense of self-respect. “The point is: we’re entitled to retain our dignity when quenching thirst.” He nudged his fingers toward the waiting fountains. “Go ahead, have your drink.”
Without giving it any thought, Fleck stumbled to the second one on the left, which was their size as if made specifically for them. They did not stop to consider whether the fountains were real or another mystical trap laid out. They were too thirsty.
Exactly the same as the ones they have lounging around in corridors and parks back on Earth; they caught their reflection in the silver basin. The spout awaited with its singular, silver coin button. Fleck held it down, releasing an arch of clear aqua that rattled against the bowl and span clockwise down the drain.
The markings flashed in their head: You’re not actually thirsty.
Fleck begged to differ; they weren’t just thirsty, they were parched, gasping, dehydrated. They lowered their mouth to the stream and started slurping at it greedily. The rush drowned their tongue, replacing the moisture it so desperately needed. They spread it through every crevice, between their teeth, along the top row and onto the roof. It tasted better than anything they have ever had and they could not get enough.
They lost themself in the water’s sweet embrace as they gulped down mouthful after mouthful, forgetting to keep their thumb down on the button several times. The water rushing down their pipe lubricated their dry throat.
Just behind the fountain, Fleck caught sight of letters scratched into the rock face.
Do—
Fleck leaned over, finding that a message continued around the back, in the space between it and the wall. Under the shade, they made it out as…
Don’t drink from the fountains
A short chuckle sounded from behind, coming from Vail’s toothy grin. “Works every time.”
Fleck pulled away as the drops dangled and dripped from their chin, their belly a sloshing water balloon. They had drank much from the fountain, maybe a little too much. The fading traces of motion sickness mixed with the fullness. It started as discomfort in the belly, then it spread upwards into their head. Fleck suddenly became lightheaded, the cave wall losing its flatness and original colouring, swaying in and out. The fountain turning from one to two, then from two to four.
They staggered away, their legs slack under them. Fleck’s head only got lighter until they could no longer feel its weight anymore. Church bells rang in their ears before going muffled under the din of static. The world around them span and distorted, drowning in more colour thought possible. Fleck moved in a wobbly line, lurching toward the five outlines of Johnny’s rockin’ frame.
As they neared him, the strangest thing began to occur. Fleck heard chanting, cheers from nowhere. A mixture of applause, with hints of sharp whistling and traces of whooping. Johnny was a black outline as the room went white and they were on the verge of collapsing.
In an instant, the wooziness departed from their head, and in that same instant, they were no longer under Black Ice Mountain. Their dulled senses sharpened, their pupils finding their focus, equilibrium balancing out.
The light that had blinded them were stage lights; two rows of six, beaming down on them from the rafters, beside the red drapes and applause signs. Fleck was on a stage lined with red velvet, looking out at the rows of monsters as far as the eye could see. The proscenium stretched off into the horizon and the balconies up and out of the atmosphere. A million – possibly billion – eyes watched them right now, waiting for them to perform. Standing before such a magnitude made their kn
ees shake, more so when they realised that they did not have an act.
The rip of guitar strings pulled Fleck across to where Johnny stood. His drab attire had changed; a sparkling silver jacket, orange pants, silver boots, and a red bandanna complimented the electric instrument in his hands. Fleck saw what he saw as he raised his guitar high and wailed a powerful cord that drove the audience insane. All by himself, a one-monster band, he strutted his stuff, playing like a master. No matter how he played – whether it was above his head, behind his head, with his teeth, or with his feet – the music he made was nothing short of supreme. His playing spurred his audience who threw roses at his feet.
“Welcome to where dreams come true, Fleck!”
That voice, Vail’s, came from up high. Fleck followed it and found that smartly-dressed monster on a balcony directly to their left and three levels up, gazing down at them with those sparkling yellow and red eyes and that persistent grin.
“What you’re seeing right now,” explained Vail, “is dear Johnny’s lifelong dream.” Despite the sound pollution of a billion cheering monsters, Vail’s singular voice came through clear, his menacing tone more upfront than ever before. “When I first met poor Johnny, his heart was in shambles, having landed a boring desk job at some place back in the Plain-plain. You see, he was afraid of showing up for that job, worried that he would grow old and grey pushing papers when he could’ve followed his dream of being a rock star. With my help, he realised his potential. I took away all his woes, all the demons eating away inside, and filled him with nothing but insurmountable bliss. Now look at him; he’s never been happier!”
Fleck turned back to the rock star and saw the appeal immediately. Johnny had seized the day, living his life to the very fullest. In this world, he was god, and he held it by the throat and told it to sit down, shut up, and listen to him. The yearning to be noticed, to be recognised, sparked whenever he raised his guitar.